Lost, only to be found within Kurama
by BlueUtopiah
Summary: Sleepless and haunted by memories, Hiei turns to Kurama for comfort. Yaoi, Lemon


**Author's Note**

-I don't own them and I don't get paid for this...obviously I'm doing something wrong.  
-This is my attempt at writing fluff, and it was heavily inspired by DarlingFox's _Need_ series.

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Hiei pulled Kurama down on top of him, loving the way that lithe body molded and pressed against his form, the skin soft and cooler than his own. After a few moments of long, searingly deep kisses that left their heads spinning and chests heaving, Hiei brushed his lips along the curve of Kurama's ear and whispered. "I need you Kurama; I can't sleep the night without you."

A shameless groan and knowing hands were the only responses to his statement. Hiei tilted his head back, eyes closed, and lost himself within the all-consuming feel of his crimson-haired kitsune lover, the fox that knew him better than he knew himself, the only one in all three worlds that he trusted, that he let himself be vulnerable with.

Even though his mental walls were thick from years of pain and rejection, there were times when his defenses weren't strong enough and the dreams were vicious and unending. They were long blood-soaked stretches of his past, playing over and over while he slept, reminding him with every image of just how awful he was, how he was an abomination, an aberration, a scourge. That's when he went for days, or weeks, without sleep - hunting and killing until he wore himself out and sank into a pit of empty yet comforting blackness. It usually took the complete obliteration of physical stamina to eradicate the dreams, and Hiei was used to using that method because, well, it was the only thing that worked.

Until he met Kurama.

Now, whenever he became haunted, brutally disturbed, and fearful of sleep, he placed himself into Kurama's soothing hands, and let the kitsune wash away all the fear with a simple touch, all the horror with a gentle kiss, and all the loneliness with a blindingly beautiful smile.

Sliding down the smaller demon's body, Kurama began to tenderly lick the flesh on Hiei's chest, running around the dark nipples in wide circles that eventually became smaller and smaller, and Hiei's breath came in short hitched gasps. Through thorough exploration, the kitsune had found spots on Hiei's body that would leave the half-koorime breathless, others that would leave him sweating, and some that would have him begging for release. Kurama relished the fact that Hiei's nipples were so sensitive and loved the myriad sounds he could raise from the normally stoic demon with a lick or a bite. Tiny hands fisted in long crimson hair, hands that clenched and unclenched according to just how meticulous Kurama was with his tongue, and Hiei was swept away by pleasured waves into the rose-scented ocean of his lover.

Questing moans vibrated against Hiei's stomach as Kurama moved lower, knowing with every inch of his being what his fiery lover needed, and knowing that what he possessed was a special privilege, a right given to him and no one else. For with all of his abilities and with all the precious jewels he had stolen a lifetime ago, Kurama knew that the greatest treasure he ever possessed was the small quivering form beneath him. Hiei gave Kurama far more than he could steal, taught him lessons he could never learn on his own, made him feel things so intensely that he was sure his needs were ironically criminal – it was a give and take where the lines were blurred and their relationship skirted the boundaries of what some might call love, but words such as those were never spoken.

Sweat poured from scarred alabaster skin as Kurama rewrote Hiei's memories with his hands and mouth. The trail of lips against Hiei's upper thigh took away those hungry nights as a child in a criminal camp, the gentle brush of fingertips under a knee wiped away the desolate years of solitude that followed. Kurama's hair swept across Hiei's hips, transforming loss and resentment to security and desire, and as teeth grazed the head of the small demon's shaft, the agony of jagan implantation faded, blurred and all but disappeared.

In response, the muscles under Kurama's hands tensed once, twice, then relaxed, but the kitsune wasn't fooled – deeper within Hiei lay the harshest pain, pain that eclipsed his twisted surgery. Kurama knew that if he stopped now and looked into the apparition's eyes, something dark would still be lurking within those crimson pools; beneath their bloody surface ingrained self-hatred slowly devoured an unacknowledged need for acceptance, a need met and cultivated by Kurama's comfort and something just as soothing and beautifully rare:

True understanding.

Despite appearances, the lovers were strangely alike. Both were outsiders in a human world, driven by a fierce need to protect someone important. Their pasts were littered with atrocities, and - for all intents and purposes - having a Youko soul in a human body rendered Kurama as a sort of half-breed as well and he had not escaped the solitude that accompanied that distinction.

The isolation, the lies, those closest to you never truly knowing who you are, the fear of your enemies using them, the potential rejection if you are revealed, all of it Kurama shared silently with Hiei as he engulfed his lover whole, feeling the dark apparition gasp and arch beneath his moist touch. Slow long sucks hinted at reassurance, and Hiei's guttural moan was met by Kurama's own growl as he took the fire-demon's shaft in deeper, allowing it to push open the back of his throat.

Searching fingers grazed Hiei's lips and he took them in without thought. He was torn open; the blood of his memories vanishing as it hit the force of Kurama's will, leaving him mindless and raw. He didn't cry, he didn't know how, but dry sobs wracked his form as he trembled, all the hated truths in his life dissolving one by one under the kitsune's tenderness and lust. Hiei sucked on the long digits furiously, as if they were his lifeline, only to let them go with a wail as Kurama took him in even further, the wet heat of his lover's mouth delving deep within his psyche, eradicating his shame, erasing the certainty that he was worthless, nothing but a murderous tool, a dark shadowed soul that would only sully Yukina's purity.

Here, within Kurama's encompassing touch, it was hard to deny that there was anything but pleasure, and Hiei's sleepless world narrowed to the feel of a talented tongue, silken hands, and the gentle vibrations of moans against his shaft. In these moments, the pure sorrow of his existence was forgotten and although he would never admit it, he was truly thankful for Kurama. He had made many mistakes in his short life, committed countless unspeakable acts, but the moments he spent with Kurama made his existence seem almost worthwhile, for when he was with the kitsune he didn't have to be the Hiei that was forbidden, feared, or reviled, instead he could be the Hiei that was needed, welcome…

Valued.

"K-Kurama!" The fire-demon arched off the bed even further, his hands curling into the sheets at either side of his head as he felt slick fingertips press inside him, stretching, searching, wanting. He took a deep breath, which came out in a cry as Kurama stroked that perfect place, and a shock rippled through his frame, the fabric in his clawed hands tearing.

The kitsune caressed Hiei inside and out, his touch never ceasing, the constant contact bringing the smaller demon peace and pleasure at the same time. Hiei started to writhe, babbling nonsensical words which occasionally formed Kurama's name, and the ambient temperature in the room began to rise. He was lost in a haze of passion, his release winding through him following the intricate dance of Kurama's rippling fingers, when he felt his core shudder, then crack,

And the world around him shifted –

Then snapped.

Once again Hiei was forced upon that cliff, small, warded, helpless and alone, buffeted by the cold wind and looking into the resigned eyes of a woman not strong enough to question her elders. On the physical he froze, crimson eyes going wide and sightless, pupils dilating, haloed by a thin rim of red. His skin sank from white to grey and a cold sweat shone along his body, making him shimmer like a ghost in the faint moonlight of Kurama's room.

Trapped in his harshest memory, its strength and depth indisputable, Hiei was consumed, stricken…

Lost.

However Kurama remained unruffled as he looked upon his lover's detached unresponsive form. This incident wasn't common but it _did_ happen, and when it did the only option was to continue. It needed to be faced, all of it, and it needed to be purged. This was the end of Hiei's pain, the final barrier to his sanity, and Kurama was the harbinger of peace.

Leaning over the jaganshi, Kurama placed a hand by a small but muscled shoulder, and reached between them, positioning himself. Hiei jerked at the touch, locked in his mind, freezing in the cold wind, gasping as the hands keeping him aloft over the edge of his life went slack.

And then he was plummeting, the steel sharp blade of panic slicing him, his death imminent and inescapable.

Forever a silken tether to reality, Kurama pushed in, wrapping his arms around Hiei, holding him close as the hiyoukai began to tremble and scream, deep terror-filled cries filling the bedroom and tearing Kurama's soul.

"Shhhhh, Hiei, it's OK." The redhead's voice was a distant sound swallowed by the imagined wind, and Hiei began to seize as he fell through the clouds, the sky tilting sideways in his vision, air rushing past his ears.

Still clutching Hiei to his chest, Kurama sat upright, pulling the wailing, jittering demon with him. Determination etched across his fair features, he began to thrust, as slowly and carefully as he could under the circumstances, whispering words of comfort and assurance. This was the only way – experimentation had proven that - and Kurama was secretly glad when this did happen, because it meant that he had succeeded, he had gotten to it all, and even though he could not completely destroy the memories, at least he had the power to give Hiei reprieve.

And it comforted the fox to know that when those crimson eyes were shadowed and sleepless once again, they looked to Kurama and didn't look away. There would be no more mindless killing, no more vile attempts at release; the old brutal escapes were obsolete, replaced with feathery touches, endless green eyes and a soft healing alto.

The pace increased slowly, Kurama's hips beating a gentle tattoo, force and arms moving Hiei's shaking body while that jagan-sharpened mind lay in a prison of memory. The fox continued his consoling mantra, the sound of his voice strengthening, soothing words rushing through the clouds when they opened, reaching toward Hiei's tiny form as he fell.

The wicked Makai plains stretched below, and with a lung shredding gasp the jaganshi froze again, waiting…waiting to meet the ground with bone splitting force, waiting for his too-short life to be torn from him by the unbending rules of his people, waiting for everything to end. His eyes remained wide, unseeing, his mouth open in a silent scream, and Kurama covered those swollen lips with his own, taking in Hiei's breath, his slender hips thrusting faster.

Delving between them, Kurama grasped his lover, moving his arm to the synchronized dance of his hips, tearing away from the kiss to plead. "Hiei, come back to me."

_Hiei._

Time slowed. A melodious voice caressed the sky, reaching, beckoning him, promising security and solace.

_Come back to me_.

His skin tingled at the sound, instinct recognizing the lilting tone, his core no longer lurching with fear, but with hope.

_Come back._

And then he knew…he knew that all he had to do was call out and the voice would catch him. Struggling, he twisted in his fabric prison, tattered wards streaming behind him as he tore free, crying out:

"_Kurama!" _

Reality shimmered, rippled, then broke and the voice that called to him became arms, arms that caught him before he hit the ground, arms that were his salvation, his safety, his sanity. The rush of air stopped, the violet Makai sky became the moonlit ceiling of Kurama's room, and instead of the ground shattering him, pleasure washed over Hiei's form, making his entire body sing.

Springing to life in his lover's embrace, Hiei threw his head back, drank in the present and howled, breaking through the shock, the displacement, feeling the total release of body and mind that only Kurama could bring him.

The sounds of their completion echoed through the bedroom, complemented by soft blue pulses of light from Hiei's jagan. Both rode their orgasm until it shimmered and disappeared, leaving them boneless and sated. After a few moments of heaving breath, Kurama shifted and they fell across the bed, still entwined, the intensity of their union making them reluctant to part.

Crimson eyes, unusually serene, drank in his lover's face. "I heard you." Hiei whispered.

Kurama tightened his arms. "I will always catch you if you fall."

Silent, Hiei looked deeply into Kurama's eyes, the unspoken rich and vibrant in his gaze, and then kissed the fox thoroughly with a thankful tenderness.

Then the jaganshi slid down a bit, ending the kiss, resting his head on Kurama's chest as he closed his eyes. Those arms still locked him in that tight embrace, existing only to comfort him and draw the dreamless curtain of sleep across his tired soul. At this particular moment Hiei felt safe, and for just a little while he allowed himself to revel in that feeling, for he knew it wouldn't last, but it was truly beautiful while he experienced it.

For so long he had struggled - angry, tortured and lost - only to be found within Kurama.

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Just incase you're interested, I've recently done a Yu Yu Hakusho AMV, the links are in my profile (since we all know how you can post a direct link right here in the fic), so please, check it out. 


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